I Shall Gift You Death
by psquare
Summary: Love is truth. Love is death. Love is your brother. Everything else is a lie. One-shot, post-5.22.


_**A/N**_: Brought to you by the Need To Get Away From Studying For My Pharmacology Exam For A While. Except, you know, it'll be abbreviated on the business cards.

**Warnings:** SPOILERS up to and for 5.22: _Swan Song._ Blood, gore, character death, _weirdness like you wouldn't believe_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural_ or any of its characters.

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_**I Shall Gift You Death**_

Everything you know is a lie.

"Hey, Dean."

When he looks at you, you want to tell him that what he's living is a lie, too.

"Sa- Sammy?"

He's striding toward you, and then he's got his arms around you, his face hot and wet against your chest.

"It's good to see you, man."

See, the thing is, even if your brother is a lie; even if everything he says or does or believes is a lie, his love isn't. You've come to realise that in all the non-years you spent both on the mortal plane and below. And so you can't tell him. You _won't_.

"Same here. What - what happened, dude? How did you get - get out?"

He releases you and takes a step back, his eyes wide and wet, imploring.

"I... don't know. I was, uh. I was falling, and then, then. There was so much - Dean, I don't know. One moment I was in H-hell, and the next, I'm here."

You watch as he coughs and turns away after that, as if he can't quite believe it. And here's another thing: for all that you _know_ everything is a lie, you can't help but feel angry that he _still_ won't trust you. That he won't believe you, like he once used to. Even when he loves you, he doesn't, and _that_ hasn't stopped hurting, never mind the aeons that have already passed since the betrayal.

"What about Adam?"

It's a laughable question, so completely out of place, but you think that maybe it needs to be asked.

"Still... stuck down there with- with Michael, I think. Dean, you don't think that if - if I got out, _Lucifer_...?"

You clench your jaw, looking away as the question goes unfinished.

"I don't know. Could have."

The implication hangs in the room like a shroud over the last remnants of hope.

And then, you realise: even if love _isn't_ a lie, and everything else _is_, you aren't doing any good lying to him, any more. Love begets truth; truth begets love, even if that truth will lead to his destruction. You aren't a creature bereft of emotion; but you know that in the land of illusions, true love only expresses itself in death.

"W-Would you like to hear a story?"

He blinks at you, startled.

"What?"

"A story. About two brothers. But I'm guessing you know most of it, anyway."

Finally, fear registers on your brother's face.

"Look, I don't - I don't know what you're getting at -"

"Sit down." You wave a hand at him, and he sits on the bed, pulled there and held by your mental restraints. "Like I said, you may have heard most of this, but there are somethings you might want to know."

A glimmer of anger shines through the fear. "Y-you b-bastard -"

"These two brothers? They loved each other very much. So even when one of them betrayed the other and sent him spiralling into darkness, that love didn't change. Even when the one who was betrayed came back to take what was rightfully his, it was with the hope that he wouldn't have to fight his brother again."

"S-stop. Get _out_ of him!"

"Hush, now. But what can the younger brother do when such a fight is destined to happen? Well, make sure it ends quickly, of course, so that the elder does not live to suffer the consequences of his defeat."

He is sobbing, now. "Please," he says. "_Please_..."

"But the fight never happened." You sigh at the remembrance. "The younger brother got too cocky, too complacent, and his final great act of love was almost irreparably ruined." You smile. "Almost, because he'd forgotten there was _another_ story of love going on, _another_ two brothers, a love he could use because it was so close to his own...

"He didn't have to wait long, and was freed by the first of the other two brothers, who gave himself to him, body and soul." You reach into your belt and pull out a knife, the yellow light glinting dully off its edge. "And, Sam, I'm here, now. I'm here to show you your brother's love - what it _actually _looks like."

He can only stare, white and scared as all the anger leeches out, as you place the blade against his neck. "But you can't - not Dean - demon blood -"

You run the fingers of one hand through his hair, and clutching the strands, you pull the head violently back, exposing his throat. "He was so eager, so desperate," you whisper into his ear. "He'd drunk demon blood - gallons of it - in preparation. Of course," you chuckle softly, "his body wasn't prepped for handling that much blood - not like you, Sammy - and he was dying even as he crawled to the graveyard. Dying even as he opened my cage with the ring-key."

Sam closes his eyes. "Dean," he says. "Dean, I'm so sorry."

"And now -" You straighten, and press the blade against Sam's neck until a thin line of blood wells to the surface. "I'm going to fulfill his last wish. You don't have to do this any more, Sammy. He doesn't want this for you. You don't have to fight. Finally... you can be free."

Sam doesn't really respond; only repeats his brother's name in a desperate litany.

You bend down, kiss him lightly on the forehead, before drawing the knife down and across his throat in a quick, sure motion. You lap at the life blood that spurts out of Sam, revelling in the sheer power of what was once promised to be yours, even as you watch the life fade out of his eyes, his brother's name and an apology lingering on his final exhale.

Michael had spoken your name like that, too, in his final moments in the cage.

You let go of Sam and turn away, blood still dripping from your lips.

Love is truth. Love is death. Love is your brother.

Everything else is a lie.

A world of illusions awaits its destruction as you walk out the door.

_**Finis**_


End file.
